Beggar's Rebellion: An Epic Fantasy Saga (Empire of Resonance Book 1)

by L. W. Jacobs

  With all that elkmeck about hungry spirits and whatnot? They’re just trying to use you for your power.

  Or you are, he thought back. According to Lumo, you’re just a stranger’s spirit eating my uai.

  Right. That’s how I know every detail of your life before we met.

  The canoe bumped against the far shore, and Tai climbed onto the dock, thanking the old man in humble-polite Achuri.

  “They didn’t even know about my power till Ilrick rescued me,” he mumbled, blending into the dockyard crowds. He needed to get through them and to Aelya as soon as possible. If anyone saw him, or figured out what he was carrying, he’d be in trouble.

  Another good reason not to come back here. And they might not have known about your power, but they were sure shaking to recruit you once they saw it.

  Tai took a winding market path. “And I was shaking to recruit them, once I realized what they were doing.”

  You’ll do Fisher more good rich and late than quick and dead.

  “I’m not going to die.”

  Yeah. I used to think that too.

  Tai came out of Riverbottom, taking a footpath up the bluffs. “Well, the sad truth is that you did, and I miss you, buddy, but I’m the one that gets to make the decisions now.”

  Right. Hake was angry now. Even though I’m the one who saved you from killing yourself after the war. And she’s my sister. You owe me this much at least.

  Tai rolled his shoulders. “Yes, I owe you. I promised you to do the best I can for her, and I will—and not just for you. But I’m going to do it my way.”

  Hake clammed up, anger still rolling off him, like he used to when he was still alive, only he couldn’t storm off anywhere now. Tai stretched his neck. Nothing to be done for it. Other than get his kids free.

  But first, the friend he could get to. Aelya.

  Marrem’s shop looked the same as always, painted sign hanging in front of a tidy bluffhouse edged in potted herbs. It was unsettling, somehow—like the whole thing had never happened. Like his kids might still be there, Fisher counting butterflies and Pang juggling bean sacks in front of the cookfire.

  But there was no pot on the coals, no smoke rising from the chimney. They were gone.

  One of Marrem’s kids rose from her stoop out front. “Ma’s inside,” she said in the casual Achuri of a youth unused to social situations. “You want her?”

  “I do, little sister.”

  She led him in, the interior cool and smelling of citrus and rosemary. Marrem was in a small room to the left of the hall, walls covered in precisely labeled drawers. A blue garbler perched in a wicker cage in the corner, singing its peculiar low-throated song. The healworker raised an eyebrow. “So, you did survive. And working for House Coldferth now?”

  Tai adjusted the uniform, fine fabric still unfamiliar against his skin. “It’s a long story. Is Aelya here?”

  “She is. Your lawkeepers broke three of her ribs and gave her such a cut to the side that she ought to have lost the leg.” Marrem clucked her tongue. “Another finger deeper and she would have.”

  Tai swallowed, worry rising in his throat. “But she—”

  “She’ll be fine.” Marrem turned back to her herbs, measuring careful amounts into a worn stone pestle. “Another week off her feet and she’ll be keeping you in line again. Looks like you need it.”

  Tai touched his face, raw in a dozen places from his push through the storehouse roof. “I—got into some trouble with some mercenaries.”

  She began pulling down different herbs. “Some mercenaries now, too? What’s this all about?”

  Tai sighed. “It’s about payback. We embarrassed a lawkeeper, and he came after us.”

  Marrem nodded, grinding the herbs with a practiced hand. “And now you want payback on them?”

  “No. I just want my kids back. They’re in the camp, Marrem.”

  The woman’s eyes saddened, but her tone was still firm. “So, you’re going to go and kill more people to make sure others don’t die?”

  “I—no.” But he didn’t need Hake to remind him that wasn’t really true. “Well, yes. Eventually.”

  “And what will that change?”

  “My kids will be safe.”

  “And the parents of those people you kill?” She clucked her tongue again, working a foul-smelling paste into the ground herbs. He had the unpleasant suspicion they were meant for him. “You can do better than that. You have to, or it’ll just keep going.”

  Tai rolled his shoulders, watching her work. “How?”

  The healworker barked a laugh, but without humor. “Never been able to think of an answer. Guess that’s why I mix herbs instead of start revolutions. Now hold still; this is going to burn.”

  The next few minutes were unpleasant, Marrem prodding and poking and smearing at the cuts and bruises he’d earned over the last few days. The ointment did burn, but there was something comforting in it too. He’d spent much of his childhood here, getting poked and prodded and patched up after street fights. Marrem was the closest thing he’d had to a parent after the war.

  “There,” she said, standing back. “Nothing too major, ancestors be praised. But drink this tea twice a day. And if you have some of that yura to spare, I would take something for my labor with Aelya.”

  Trust an herbalist to smell it. Tai untied the pouch and gave her a few balls, then after considering a moment, put a handful in his own pocket. Karhail had said he could keep some.

  Take more. It’s not like they did anything to earn it.

  Tai grimaced, following Marrem down the hall to the infirmary. I’m in this now, he thought back. Whatever I give them only gets us closer to getting the kids out.

  To killing more people to make sure others don’t die?

  Aelya was asleep when they came in, the other infirmary beds empty. Blue garblers sang in the corners, and a fresh breeze came through the open shaft in the ceiling.

  “Now, don’t wake her up,” Marrem said, stopping at the door. “She’s been taking plenty of dreamleaf. I think the wound in her side still hurts her. I’ll be across the hall if you need me.”

  Tai nodded and sat on the bed across from Aelya. Her face was softer in sleep, making her look younger than her sixteen winters. There were thick bandages around her middle, and other evidences of Marrem’s handiwork. Tai winced, imagining her facing down Tulric and his lawkeepers, fighting them though there was no way she could win. Getting cut down.

  Because of him.

  He hadn’t had much time to think about Tulric’s attack since it had happened, but there was time now. It seemed obvious in retrospect that the lawkeeper would attack. You didn’t get shamed publicly without seeking some kind of revenge. At least, not if you were raised in a street gang. He should have taken everyone with him. Gods, if Aelya didn’t get better—

  She shifted on the bed, and one eye cracked open. “Tai?” Her voice was thick with sleep. “That you?”

  “Aelya! Are you okay? Do you—should I get you some dreamleaf?”

  The stocky girl grinned. “Had enough of that already. Marrem’s got like an unlimited supply back there.”

  “So, you’re not—in a lot of pain?”

  “I mean, it hurts, yeah, but,” she grinned, and he could see the glaze in her eyes, “I’m feeling no pain.”

  A weight lifted off his shoulders. “Mecking lush!”

  She shrugged, rolling to one side with a wince. “The kids are locked up, you’re probably dead, and I’m trapped here under Marrem’s thumb waiting for Tulric or one of the other lawkeepers to come finish the job. Figured the least I could do was get dreamy.”

  He laughed, as much in relief as humor. She was still Aelya. “That’s fair, I guess. Look, I wanted to say I’m sorry about the whole thing. I should have been there when Tulric came. It was stupid to go off by myself and get the money. I should have taken everyone, and I’m sorry you got attacked.”

  She frowned at him. “If it was stupid, then I’m
stupid too, ’cause I was in on the plan.”

  “No, I’m not saying that, I—”

  She snorted. “You’re guilt-tripping yourself, is what you’re doing. I’m the one that knocked Tulric out, remember? If anybody should feel guilty, it’s me, and I’m feeling fine. So, cut it out.”

  Tai swallowed. “Right. Thanks, Aels.”

  “So, what happened to you, anyway? Marrem said you threw our savings at her and ran out of here to go kill Tulric.”

  He shifted in his seat. “Something like that. I did find Tulric, but he’d already put the kids in the prison camp, so—”

  “Stains.” She grabbed his arm. “They’re in the camp?”

  “They’re in there.” Tai steeled himself for her disappointment, for some kind of attack. None came. “I tried to get them out. I attacked the camp but there were too many of them—”

  “Wait, you attacked the camp? As in used your resonance? Prophet’s piece, I pass out for one day and you decide to go all Blackspine?”

  “I didn’t go all Blackspine. I just—used my resonance, and it was fine.” He ignored Hake’s grumblings at this. “I had to fly at the prison camp to get in, but there were too many wafters, so I backtracked to a mine compound, so the lawkeepers couldn’t get in.”

  “A mine compound? We seriously spend a year and a half twiddling our thumbs, and then soon as I pass out, you go on all these adventures?”

  “We’ve had adventures.”

  “Mhm. Like the time I got arrested and worked my way free before you even heard about it?”

  “Yeah. Like that.”

  “So, how the hell’d you get out of the mines?”

  “I found a back door. With the help of some rebels.” Tai couldn’t keep a smile from his face, knowing how she’d react.

  “Oh, Prophet’s mecking piece, just give me the dreamleaf. This is elkstains.” She waved her hand at the pitcher, but he knew she wasn’t serious. “So, then you probably took over House Coldferth, too, and that’s why you’re wearing their uniform?”

  “Actually, I hit a lick off their mine compound and stole a bunch of yura.”

  “You stole yura. From a mining compound. Tai, those things are guarded heavier than mecking Newgen.”

  Tai shrugged, untying the bag around his waist. “See for yourself.” He held it out to her.

  Aelya took it and sniffed. And stared.

  “Aelya? You okay?”

  Her voice came out dead serious. “Where did you get this?”

  “I told you. I broke into Coldferth’s mining compound last, night using some information the rebels had, and I stole it. They had ten times this much in there.”

  “And now you’re just…walking around with it?”

  “I’m—taking it to an arms dealer, actually. Odril. To help with the rebellion.” At Hake’s grumblings he added, “Though Hake is saying I should just take it and go to Worldsmouth.”

  Aelya laughed. “That’s what Worlea’s been saying, only with the money you left here.”

  “Hake thinks it would be better for Fisher.”

  “That’s meckstains. He’s just trying to guilt you into it.”

  Tai shifted. “Well, I did get him killed.

  She frowned. “Like you got me attacked by lawkeepers? Not everything is your fault, Tai. Now, when are we going back to the rebels?”

  It took him a second to register the last part. “We?”

  “You think you’re gonna leave me here to get more pokes and prods by the old woman?”

  “I can hear you,” Marrem said from the next room.

  Aelya kept going. “See what I mean? Leave me here and I will make you feel guilty. Now, come on.”

  “Aels, Marrem said you need another week in bed.”

  She waved a hand. “Another week and I’ll be so hooked on dreamleaf, I won’t want to leave. ’Sides, we’ve been practicing on crutches.” She nodded to a pair in the corner.

  Marrem appeared in the doorway, hands on hips. “You’re not ready to leave.”

  Aelya put on a smile. “Never been readier, actually. I can find dreamleaf and a bed wherever we go.”

  The healworker clucked her tongue. “I won’t get either of you to listen to sense, will I?”

  Tai looked at Aelya and smiled. “Not likely.”

  13

  In the aftermath, the Prophet realized his mistake. Seingard was perfect—the land, the waters, the bubbling baths—but the people were not. And so we were given the challenges, each his own, to make him grateful, make him humble, make him wise.

  —Seinjialese origin myth, crew of The Swallowtail Mistress

  Odril came two days later. Ella still didn’t have a plan, hadn’t thought of a way to get out or get yura without exposing Tunla. But the rest of life in the office had started to normalize—she’d met the other women, began to understand the rhythm of work and cooking and cleaning in the small basement rooms. It wasn’t home, wasn’t even homey, but Ella was gradually finding her place in it.

  That was the scary part. She didn’t want to get comfortable.

  The lock turned just before lunch, a brawler striking resonance as the door opened. Odril stepped in, scowling, a load of books in one arm. He looked just as pinched and sallow as ever. Prula went to him and they spoke in low voices—something about a new account and deliveries coming that afternoon. Ella was pleased, at least, to see the red, puffy skin on his face, the fading bruises from where she’d attacked him.

  Ella kept looking up as they talked, waiting for him to notice her, to say something. The fact that he didn’t somehow bothered her worse than him coming at all—wasn’t he even going to acknowledge her? Acknowledge the fact that he’d stolen her money, then locked her in a calculism dungeon?

  He turned to go and she stood. “Odril.”

  Every face in the house turned to look—calling out the master clearly wasn’t done. Well, it was now. “I would have a word with you.”

  He gave her an oily grin. “Certainly. Arlo.” He motioned to the brawler, then led her back to one of the sleeping rooms, leaving Arlo outside and closing the door. In the smaller space, she could smell him, stale sweat and the acrid vinegar of the dyehouse. “Well, then,” he smiled. “Reconsidered your little episode?”

  “I haven’t reconsidered scat,” she spat, restraining the urge to attack him again. “But I have realized what this little shop is for. You’re illegally laundering books. Covering up Alsthen’s mercenary habits and probably making a tidy profit off it in the process.”

  His smile never faltered. “How clever of you. A little more ambitious than just lying about one’s calculist license, isn’t it?”

  She ground her teeth. “It’s dangerous, is what it is. One word of this to the courts, to the Arbiter, and you’ll be in prison so fast, you’ll think you timeslipped.”

  “Mmm. And who would give that one word? You, I suppose?”

  He was supposed to be scared, to be threatened, but he just stood there smiling. “Damn right I will. So, give me back my contract, let me go, and we’ll call it even. You know about my fraud, and I know about yours. Even.”

  He gave an amused laugh, breath stinking of eggs. “And how would you get this word out, if I decline?”

  “I’ll break out, if I have to.”

  “Ah. But I see you haven’t yet. Arlo is actually quite good at his job.”

  She held back a snarl. She needed to appear in control here. “Then I’ll pass word to someone who comes in. Slip notes into the street. Shout it out the windows, if I have to. Someone will hear.”

  “Mmm.” He nodded. “And this kind and caring someone, when they bring it to the courts, do you suppose the Houses will let the motion stand? Do you suppose any of them have an interest in revealing their little habits?”

  “Galya will. And Coldferth. They’ll jump on the chance to expose Alsthen.”

  “And in the next breath, Alsthen exposes them, and the whole trio loses, while other Houses swoop in to take adva
ntage. And no one wants that.”

  Ella ground her teeth again, knowing he was right. It was how the House system worked. Checks and balances of mutual fear. “I swear to the Ascending God, if I ever get out of here, I will make you pay.”

  He cocked his head. “You can get out of here, you know. Come back and be my loyal house servant. Do my books, my cleaning, attend me at night.” He lifted his eyebrows. “I thought we had a good thing. I would still consider it.”

  Going back to his house would mean more freedom, more chances to escape, to get yura, to find the contracts—much as she hated the idea, this might be the best way. “Fine, then. I’ll do it.”

  His grin widened. “Ah. But not just yet. I have to be sure I can trust you. Maybe another…year in here? Maybe two? If I don’t find someone younger and prettier than you by then.” He gave her a nose a little tweak, and it was truly all she could do to keep from decking him—but she knew where that would end, with Arlo outside.

  She settled for silence, for a stony glare.

  “Sound fair?”

  He snapped, and Arlo came, and the two left her glaring at the empty space he’d left. She would get free. She would get revenge on him. She would see him ruined.

  “I swear it,” she muttered to the empty room.

  Tunla was all smiles at lunch, joking with Ella, with the other ladies. Trying to draw her out of her shell, Ella knew. But determined as she was to get revenge, she couldn’t help feeling powerless after her talk with Odril. And she hated feeling powerless.

  The numbers helped settle her in the afternoon, even if they were illegal numbers, even if they were numbers that eventually added to up to Odril’s advantage and not hers. Numbers at least she had control over, knew the rules governing them, could make them line up in neat rows. If only her life felt like that.

  “Not a pleasant conversation this morning, then?” Tunla asked at supper.

  Ella laughed without mirth. She had settled some, but the situation still felt bleak. “I wish. I threatened him with legal action and he didn’t even blink. Said the courts wouldn’t care even if I could get the word out.”